Chapter Fourteen
Their weeks took on a comfortable routine as July bled into August, and Will had never been happier. He continued to volunteer three days a week at the Stanley Center, and Sam had even assigned him to work with Malcolm on the cooking classes—finding a location, securing supplies, getting the word out. Work that Will threw himself into, battling his anxiety every step of the way, strangling it with a new sense of self-worth.
He also arrived at Taz’s apartment every evening, usually around four thirty, with a new food experiment in tow. Money was tight, so Will had to get creative with ingredients, but Malcolm had given him some tips on how to shop for several meals at once. He and Taz enjoyed their evenings together, often making out, sometimes rubbing off on the couch together, until Will had to leave for curfew.
Weekends were all theirs. They hung out at the apartment, they took walks, usually to the park and back. Taz was getting used to being out and about, and with people not noticing his face as much as he used to fear. And even though Will still wanted to see their sex life progress farther than it had, he was also content with what they did do together.
The only thing that still nagged at the back of his mind was Christopher Mayes and his disappearing act. He hadn’t heard from Detective Morrell in weeks, so he assumed the search was stalled and nothing new had been found. He also hadn’t heard from his mother’s lawyer again, which was a small blessing. That fuckshit could rot somewhere for still helping her.
Nope. He preferred dwelling on all the joy in his life now.
On the last Saturday in August, a month and a half after their first park meeting, Will and Taz went out on their unofficial first date. More than cooking at home, or walking around the block, they were going somewhere with other people. Strangers. It would be an exercise in emotional control for both of them, but the group was small, and Will already had one ally there in Malcolm.
Malcolm had spent most of the summer turning a boarded-up storefront into a cooking school, using his own money as well as donations from local businesses that would all have their logos prominently advertised in the space. The school was located in Browntown, which maybe wasn’t the safest area, but it was central to his target audience.
Will had helped with some of the setup, but he was still awed by the finished product when he and Taz arrived, about ten minutes early for the start of the first class. Past the sign-in desk was a long chrome table with ten stations, five on each side. The stations had a single-burner hot plate, a cutting board, knives, a holder with various utensils, and underneath on a shelf were pots and pans.
The far wall, where Malcolm would stand at the head of the table with his own stocked station, had a whiteboard and markers, as well as a table full of food. Mostly fresh ingredients, but some boxed and canned things.
Today wasn’t a cooking demonstration. Today was all about budgeting, meal planning, and how to make the few dollars these folks had stretch as far as possible each week. The classes were free, however, a donation jar was set up on the sign-in counter. After he signed his name, Will slipped a few dollar bills inside.
Taz did, too.
Malcolm came out of the small back room, grinning, practically vibrating with excitement. Next to him, Taz visibly stiffened. Will hadn’t mentioned Taz’s scars to Malcolm. He wanted to prove to Taz that they weren’t so bad.
“Will, so glad you could make it,” Malcolm said, shaking his hand. His brash manner didn’t cow Will like it had when they’d first met. He’d gotten used to the way Malcolm interacted with people. “And this must be the boyfriend you mentioned. Malcolm Reeves.”
Taz shook his hand. “Thomas Zachary. But everyone calls me Taz.”
“Taz it is, then. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you guys aren’t my only students tonight. An audience of two is better than zero, of course.”
“Of course,” Taz replied. He seemed a bit bewildered when Malcolm wandered to the sign-in desk, having barely given his face a glance.
Will squeezed his wrist, then winked.
The door opened again. A Latino girl with a backpack came in. Something familiar about her, too.
“Sasha, welcome,” Malcolm said. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Will figured it out then. Sasha had been one the shelter kids volunteering at the All Saints benefit last month.
“Thanks, Mr. Reeves,” Sasha said. “Mr. Tate put a flyer up at the shelter about this class. He says he wishes All Saints could do more to get us ready for the real world, but that we should try to come to your classes if we could.”
“I’m glad you came,” Malcolm replied. “Do you think any of the other residents may?”
“Who knows? I mean, it’s not like any of us have a kitchen to practice in, but it’s good to learn, right? I want to have an apartment one day.”
Will ached for the hope in Sasha’s voice. A homeless gay teenager with dreams of a normal life one day, eager to learn whatever was being offered to her.
Sasha finally seemed to notice him and Taz. “Hey, I know you,” she said. “I think. Weren’t you at the benefit?”
“I was,” Will replied, surprised she remembered him. He couldn’t recall a single spoken word between them. “It’s nice to see you again, Sasha. Um, this is my boyfriend, Taz.”
She made a show of looking Taz up and down. “Damn, you’re tall. I guess I don’t have to ask who fucks who.”
“Excuse me?” Taz said.
“Sasha,” Malcolm warned, “their sex life is none of your business.”
Will grabbed Taz’s wrist and tugged him to the rear of the school, uncertain if Taz was going to get upset or not. “You okay?”
“I think so.” Taz twisted his hand so they were palm to palm, fingers twined. “I didn’t expect her to say that.”
“About our sex life?”
“Yeah.”
Will’s stomach twisted. “Because we aren’t fucking at all?”
“What? No.” Taz shook his head. “No, I guess I expected her to make a comment about my face.”
“Oh.” That made sense. “She’s a teenager. They’re the bluntest people on the planet.”
“Says the guy still technically a teenager.”
He huffed. “Only for two more months. Give or take. Then I’ll be in my twenties, like you, old man.” Taz still didn’t look entirely comfortable, but he did seem less likely to have an episode. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are, and how happy I am that you came?”
“Not lately.” Taz squeezed his hand, then let go. “And I’m incredibly proud of you for helping pull this place together.”
Will soaked up the praise. “All part of working for Sam.”
Malcolm started the class promptly at two o’clock, and with exactly five students. Will, Taz and Sasha were joined by two young black women who started out bored but soon were listening to every word. Malcolm had a mesmerizing speaking voice, which had probably served him well when he was on TV. He also had a way of talking to you, instead of at you, and he never once sounded condescending or patronizing to the limited means of the working poor he was targeting the lessons to.
His students asked questions; Malcolm answered them. The whole thing was pretty informal, and Will relaxed the longer it went on. Until Taz started fidgeting beside him. He was staring at the chrome table instead of looking at Malcolm, and he’d angled weirdly. So the left side of his face was away from the others, who were on the opposite side of the table.
Will looked up. One of the girls whose name he couldn’t remember from introductions was staring at Taz. Flat-out staring, not even bothering to be covert about it. Wide eyes, a weird sneer to her lips. Will wanted to throw a pot holder at her to make her quit, but he also didn’t want to draw attention to Taz.
Except eventually Malcolm noticed. “Keisha, the focus is up here, okay?”
Keisha, aka the staring girl, snapped her head forward. “Yeah, but did you see his face?” she asked, pointing across the table.
Taz’s entire body flinched, and he took a long step back from the table.
Shit.
Will moved between Taz and the table, shielding him from that pointing finger, his temper rising. “There’s nothing wrong with his face,” he snapped.
She scoffed. “Either you’re blind or in denial, child.”
He bristled.
“That’s enough,” Malcolm said. “No one’s physical appearance is up for discussion in this classroom, is that understood?”
Taz strode toward the exit. Malcolm called his name, but he didn’t stop. Will couldn’t get his own feet to move for several agonizing seconds, and then he bolted after Taz, both of them reaching the front door at the same time. Taz reached up toward his hair, but he hadn’t worn his hat tonight, and everything in his expression said he regretted that now.
Will didn’t stop him from leaving. He walked beside him, trying to be a silent comfort, uncertain what to say. The girl had been flat-out rude, and he was pretty sure that Malcolm’s attempt to defuse the situation had only made Taz feel worse. Their first outing in mixed company as a couple, and one nosy little bitch had ruined it.
They’d taken the bus to get to the school, but Taz didn’t pause when they got to a stop. He kept going, as if walking hard and fast was burning away some of his bad emotions. Will struggled to keep up with his shorter legs, and he was sweating in the summer heat after only a few blocks. He wasn’t familiar with this neighborhood, and he wasn’t entirely sure why Taz was wandering around the city, instead of fleeing for the safety of his apartment. Or standing stock-still, frozen in place like usual.
Walking was definitely preferable to hiding, but he wished Taz would slow down, or even stop for a minute. Will needed to catch his breath, and he could really use a drink of water. Taz finally paused at a crosswalk, because traffic was too heavy to dart across. His face was sweaty, but he wasn’t panting. He didn’t even seem to notice Will staring up at him, trying so hard to understand what this was, because he kind of preferred it when Taz froze up and got lost in his own head. This mindless walking was freaking him the fuck out.
“Babe, where are you going?” Will asked.
Taz didn’t even blink.
Okay, this was worse than his usual episodes. This was almost like sleepwalking, except with moving cars and pedestrians involved.
Will studied the intersection. A convenience store, a tobacco store, a few other tired-looking shops. Nothing useful. Farther down the street he spotted two people exiting a building with drink cups in their hand. A chalkboard easel sign on the sidewalk was written on with colorful chalk, but it was too far away to read.
Please be a restaurant or something similar.
The light changed. He followed Taz across the street. The closer they got to the sign, the better Will could see what it advertised. Types of coffees and pastries. Perfect. A used-book store was next to it, but Will ignored it. He grabbed Taz’s arm. “Hey, please, can we stop?”
Taz froze in place, but didn’t respond.
“I’m hot and thirsty, and we’ve walked a long way,” Will continued. He couldn’t see the name of the coffee shop, but the interior looked cheerful and clean, and there were only a handful of people that he could see through the big front windows. “Can we go in and sit for a few minutes? Please, Taz?”
Taz pulled his arm away with a sharp tug and then kept walking.
Will stared at his back, unable to follow any longer. Pain lanced through his heart at the blunt dismissal. He’d trailed Taz for blocks, hoping for a glance, or even a word, but had been given silence instead.
I don’t understand what this is.
As much as it hurt to let Taz go, it would hurt too much if Will chased again, only to be rejected a second time. The solid ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble and shake. He couldn’t stay upright. His lungs squeezed tight, stealing his breath away. Everything tilted. The hard ground jolted up his backside, but that pain was nothing. It didn’t matter when half of his heart had just walked away without a word.
The entire world grayed out.
Pressure on the back of his neck gave him something new to focus on, because Taz liked to touch him there. Only the gentle voice asking if he was okay wasn’t Taz’s voice. It was unfamiliar, but kind. Something cold pressed against his clasped hands.
“Come on, dude, drink this. You’re okay. You’ve got this.”
Will latched onto the voice and let it orient him again. He lifted his head and blinked a stranger’s face into focus. About his age. The guy had black hair and the darkest eyes Will had ever seen. He was holding an open bottle of water against Will’s hands.
“You with me now?” the stranger asked.
“Yeah.” Will took several long, deep breaths, which chased the remaining fog out of his head. He took the offered water and sipped, grateful for the cool liquid in his dry mouth. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You get heatstroke or something? I saw you through the window. You were standing there, swaying, and then you went down.”
“Not heatstroke.” He hated admitting his issues to a total stranger, but the guy seemed genuinely concerned. “It was a panic attack.”
“Aha. That would have been my second guess.”
Will stared at the stranger with the big black eyes. Eyes that were suddenly full of gentle understanding. “Sorry for being a pain in the ass.”
“Not a pain. You want to come inside and sit for a few minutes? We have air-conditioning.”
“We?”
“Half-Dozen. We’re a free-trade coffee shop that also makes our own muffins and pastries.” The guy smiled. “My name’s Romy. Romy Myers.”
“Will Madden.”
They didn’t shake, but Will accepted Romy’s hand to help him stand up. His ass hurt from its sudden impact on the cement, and he tried not to limp into the shop. The scents of coffee and sugar overwhelmed him the moment Romy opened the door. The decor was kitschy and colorful, all book related, which was cool considering their neighbors. A handful of customers sat at the various tables, and a guy with a lot of braids in his brown hair was behind the counter.
“Sit wherever’s most comfortable for you,” Romy said.
Will picked a table near the left wall, farthest from the other patrons, and sank into a padded chair facing the door. He clutched at the bottle of water, feeling completely foolish for the first time. He hadn’t had a public meltdown in weeks. Worst of all, he had no idea where Taz was. Taz probably had no idea himself.
Romy sat across from him, still wearing that patient, understanding smile. “Full disclosure, I have a lot of experience with panic attacks, so I get it.” He blew a puff of hair upward, feathering his long, black bangs. “Mine were worse a few years ago, but once in a while something triggers me and I go right back to that bad place.”
His anxiety attacks sounded a lot more like Will’s than Taz’s freezing episodes. “But yours have gotten better?” Will asked. “Over time?”
“Yup. Like, a hundred times better. But I also have really supportive friends, and I had a great therapist. Plus my partner is amazing in every single way.”
The love in that final sentence made Will’s heart ache for Taz even more. “I have a good therapist, too. He’s been really helpful.”
“Good. How about friends?”
Will shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I have my boyfriend, and I know people, but not like best friends that I hang out with on weekends.”
Romy stared at him with a shrewd look. “Does your boyfriend know about your anxiety attacks? Do you want me to call him for you?”
“No. I mean, yes, he knows I have anxiety issues, but I don’t want to call him. We just had a... I don’t even know. It wasn’t a fight. He’s got his own stuff he’s dealing with, but he had a moment, and instead of letting me help, he walked away. He’s never walked away from me before, and I freaked out.”
“And then nearly passed out on my sidewalk?”
“Yeah.” Romy had to think he was a special kind of loser. “Sorry about that.”
“Trust me, I’d rather it happened on the sidewalk than in the middle of traffic.” Those piercing black eyes narrowed. “But your boyfriend is good to you, right?”
“He’s amazing.” Will wasn’t sure why he was telling a complete stranger about his problems, but something about Romy calmed him. They’d never met before that Will could recall, and yet Romy still seemed familiar.
Maybe we knew each other in a previous life.
“Taz would never hurt me on purpose,” Will said. “We’ve always been open with each other about our issues, and we’ve always worked through them together. I don’t understand what he’s thinking right now, and it hurts. I want to be there for him, you know?”
“Yeah, I think I do. Brendan, my partner? He has a hard time talking about what he’s feeling, especially if he’s upset. He’s better with actions. But sometimes when he’s really mad, usually because of his brother-in-law, he wants to be left alone. He doesn’t want to accidentally hurt or scare me, so I give him space.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Will wasn’t sure that applied to this thing with Taz, though. Taz had been embarrassed by the girl at the cooking class. Will understood that. It was Taz’s reaction that he didn’t understand. “I don’t know. This is new for us.”
“How long have you been together?”
“About two months or so.”
Romy smiled. “New things aren’t all that uncommon when you’re still getting to know someone.”
Will shrugged. He’d thought he knew everything about Taz, but apparently not. “How long have you and Brandon been together?”
“Brendan. And we’ll be celebrating three years this fall.”
“Wow.” Color him impressed.
“Yeah. It hasn’t always been easy. We’ve had disagreements and fights. But we always find our way back to each other, because we love each other that much. He was there for me at my worst moment in the world, and he’s been there for me ever since.”
“Taz doesn’t know mine.” Jesus Christ, Will needed to get a handle on his verbal diarrhea.
Romy didn’t respond right away. He sat there looking thoughtful for several long moments. Two customers passed by their table, and then the doorbell chimed their exit. Will wished he hadn’t said as much as he had, but he also liked talking this out with a complete stranger. Someone who had empathy toward Will’s experience but had no stake in the outcome. A completely neutral perspective.
“Assuming you have your reasons for not telling your boyfriend about your worst moment,” Romy said slowly, “two months is still pretty fresh for a new relationship. Brendan kind of knew mine going in, but I didn’t tell him any of the details until months later. I told him when it was right for me, and he was amazing. I mean, has, um...”
“Taz.”
“Right. Has Taz pressured you into telling him?”
“Not once. I mean, I vaguely told him, but not the details. Not the things that haunt my nightmares.”
“Telling Brendan my truth didn’t make the nightmares miraculously stop,” Romy said. “But it was a big step toward healing.”
“Christ, you sound like my shrink.
“Like I said, I had a pretty good therapist of my own. Some days are a struggle, other days I don’t even think about my past. I have a good life, and a man who loves me more than I think I deserve sometimes. Now I’m just paying it forward.”
“I appreciate it. A lot.” Will exhaled sharply through his nose. “Now I need to figure out how to get home.”
“Where’s home?”
He gave Romy the address to Carter House.
Romy whistled. “Yeah, you’re not close. I’d offer to drive you, but I don’t have the car. Brendan dropped me off.”
“It’s okay, I can find a bus route or something.”
“No way. If Brendan finds out I let you wander around, searching for a way home, he’ll be mad, and I’d rather avoid that.”
“Why would Brendan be mad?”
“Honestly?” Romy leaned across the table. “I see a lot of me in you right now. So let me do you a favor and get you a ride home, okay?”
Will had no response to that besides “Okay.”
“Good. Hang out a minute.”
Romy left the table. Will took the moment alone to get out his phone and call Taz. It rang until voice mail picked up. “Hey, I’m super worried about you right now, and I don’t know if you’re angry with me or not. I’m arranging a ride back to my place, since I don’t have a key to yours, and I have no idea where you are. Please call me. Or at least text me that you’re okay. I miss you.”
I love you sat on the tip of his tongue, but Will wasn’t going to say it for the first time in a voice mail. “‘Bye.”
He texted a brief version of the same message. Maybe one of the two would get a response from Taz.
Romy returned with Braids Dude from behind the counter in tow. “I couldn’t get up with Brendan, so Trace is going to drive you home and then come back.”
“Trace?” Will said.
Braids Dude held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hi. Um, Will.”
“Yeah, Romy said.” Trace had a pleasant face, and hints of tattoos peeked out from the short sleeves of his black Half-Dozen polo. “You ready to go?”
Will eyeballed him, not moving.
Romy laughed. “Don’t worry, Trace is one of the good ones, I promise. Don’t let the hair discourage you.”
“Fuck off, Myers,” Trace said. He was grinning, though, so the hair thing must have been a running joke. “Don’t worry, Will, you’re cute, but you’re not my type.”
Will couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What’s your type?”
“Ezra,” Romy said instantly. “But it’s understandable. I had a crush on him once, too.”
“I do not have a crush on Ezra,” Trace snapped.
“Who’s Ezra?” Will asked, a bit adrift in the conversation.
“Our boss, and one of the shop’s co-owners,” Romy replied. “But Ezra is superhot. He’s easy to crush on.”
Trace grunted. “I do not have a crush on him.”
“Whatever, dude. Will, I know we aren’t very close to your place, but if you’re in the neighborhood again, stop in and say hi, okay?”
“I will, thanks,” Will said. He liked the atmosphere of the coffee shop, and he enjoyed the easy camaraderie among the staff. Maybe he’d bring Taz with him next time.
Except, for the entire ride back to Carter House, Will’s phone stayed silent.